


Last Night Is Sinking In

by redqueentheory



Series: I'm With the Band [19]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Kink, Denial, Dirty Talk, Fingers in Mouth, Hair Pulling, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, References to canonical violence, Size Kink, Threesome, everyone is thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 09:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14997686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redqueentheory/pseuds/redqueentheory
Summary: Brad makes some practical inquiries. Taako admits to having edited the Narrative. Kravitz could not be more delighted, all-around.





	Last Night Is Sinking In

Brad wakes, and curses his subconscious for being particularly cruel - not even just a sex dream, but one embroidered with wholly-unfamiliar domesticity.

And then it all comes back at once, immediate and overwhelming. Not a dream at all.

"Shit," he says to himself, with feeling, and rolls out of bed on autopilot.

His morning routine drifts past in the background, unimportant. Brad's thoughts are taken up entirely by the weekend's events; replaying, considering, lingering over half-seconds and sensations. There's a degree of desperation to it, he notices wryly, as though he's deliberately trying to commit things to memory as strongly as possible in case - in case.

A _misunderstanding,_ a missed connection. The sort of thing he has studiously arranged his life to avoid. He'd been successful too, until Taako - a force of unexpected chaos, crashing into him and tearing the careful organisation apart like a particularly obstinate comet. Twice.

The trajectory of the weekend is so wildly improbable he can barely believe it himself: flirting with an attractive stranger at a party he’d nearly ghosted on as early as possible, a serious conversation with his ex and then lunch and then _sex with Taako and his boyfriend_. He’s still reeling, a little, even as he’s allowing himself to hope that improbable doesn’t necessarily mean out of reach.

Which is - huge. There's a sense of vertigo, of being at the very edge of something he can't control. It's the kind of uncertainty that could very well take him over, keep him mentally planning for contingencies well into the small hours, dwelling on the significance of the choices he's made and the risks he's taking on. But that isn't helpful, at least not yet, particularly when there are some basic practical issues he can and should sort out before he has to worry about anything else.

The first - Taako's scars. New scars, jagged purple slices criss-crossing his back, an angry line echoing the slant of his jaw. Thinking about it now, with the benefit of distance, Brad feels the slow trickle of anxiety with nowhere to go; settling in between his ribs, turning cold and unpleasant. Somebody - something - hurt Taako, badly, and Brad knows it's absurd to berate himself for not preventing it but he can't help feeling helpless, and furious. Which isn't useful at all, in light of his feelings about the whole situation more generally, but there it is anyway.

The thought of asking Taako about the scarring is its own tangle of apprehension. It feels like seeking intimacies he hasn’t earned or asked for. But being reticent was the wrong choice the first time, and if they’re _dating_ now then intimacies are going to have to be part of it. He can’t leave something so obviously important unremarked upon.

Which is all very well and thoughtful and virtuous of him. But there’s an impatient, hungry part of him, too. And other kinds of intimacy that need to be discussed.

Yesterday had been good - very good - but it had still been missing something obvious. Their old dynamic. He'd judged it too much to raise, and Taako had pointedly said nothing about it. But thinking about it now sparks desire in his belly so swiftly that he feels a little dizzy.

Brad wants to try to be with them, with the sort of intensity that usually settles in when he fixes on something, and that means he’ll settle for sweet kisses and blowjobs in the living room if that’s all that’s on the table. But he also wants to be able to bend Taako over the arm of his own couch and spank him until he cries, which he can see now, vividly. And then his brain helpfully reminds him that it could be Kravitz, too, and that sends him off down the path of wondering how Kravitz sounds while he’s being pushed to the edges of what he can take and what his skin looks like when he bruises.

A pleasant diversion, but hypothetical until he has a very delicate and important conversation with both of them.

But even then - he's been given a glimpse into Taako's edged fragility, and knows very little about Kravitz, so one chat is hardly going to cut the mustard. They'll have to be ongoing, and he's prepared to insist on it; there's no way he intends to let his second chance at this collapse because of a failure to check in.

Planning the discussion just seems impossible, at least with Kravitz the unknown hovering over all of this, but he can at least eliminate some of his uncertainty. Fact-gathering is the start of any new project.

Brad's dressed and out the door and walking briskly to work when he finally fishes the Stone out of his satchel, one handed, and reluctantly opens his contacts to scroll to Taako's name. He'd diligently filled out the details for both Taako and Kravitz as far as he could, which - wasn't much. He doesn't even know their address, which seems an enormous oversight, but there's not much he can do about it now. He could just ask, but he still doesn't understand what he's allowed to request and what he should wait to observe; the limits are vague, clouded, and he can't stand the thought of tripping over some unexpected landmine again. He's distantly aware that he's displacing a more general anxiety with his concern for accurate contact details but he _does_ feel very strongly about accurate contact details.

He types out a message, instead. _Good morning. There are some things I should ask you about, when you have a spare moment._ Hesitates, and then adds, _Perhaps over lunch this week, if you like_. And then hastily shoves the Stone into his pocket, determined to ignore it as long as he can.

The forced distance lasts until he rounds the corner to his office and Charity greets him with a cheery "Good morning boss. Did you enjoy your weekend?"

He's so preoccupied that for a moment his heart jumps into his throat. He's doing a very poor job of redirection - "I- it was perfectly ordinary, I-" when he realises too late she's asking about the _party_ , of course-

Charity is no fool; she seizes on it immediately. "I know that expression," she says, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's the face you made when I told you I knew about your secret bath requisition. What are you up to?"

"I have things to do," Brad tells her firmly as he crosses to his office and yanks the door open. There's no way he can salvage this by adding more explanations into the mix. "And so do you."

"You know I'll wheedle it out of you!"

Brad shuts the door behind him, leans back against it. Can't help a half smile, at the ridiculousness of hiding in his office from his own secretary because he's so transparent. But he'll cling to privacy or neutrality as long as possible, at least until he knows where he stands. He is not a creature of superstition, but there's no point counting his chickens.

In the end the routine of his work is soothing, pleasant. It's helpful, to focus on reports and deadlines and figures, to continue his task of reworking the Bureau's budget now that its goals are far less clearly defined, to manage the shift in resources and develop strategies for how they'll achieve their new mission of altruism. Lucretia is a big ideas person, blue skies and possibilities, a mindset Brad admires but can't emulate. It's why they've worked so well together - he managed the details and the planning and she set the direction and apparently the entire multiverse was saved. With help, he supposes. And a cost he still doesn't really understand.

It's mid-morning before he lets himself look at his Stone, and it's blinking, sure enough, with a response. This all seems foreign, even though he knows it's mundane; strange, to be exchanging pleasantries over message.

_You gotta drop the drama, my man, 'things you should ask me' jesus fantasy christ. Like what?!_

And then, twenty minutes after, _but sure lunch'd be good. Can manage today if you want, Krav can drop me off._

Brad can't help but take the immediate agreement as a good sign, but the last thing he wants to do is scare Taako off. _All right. I want to know what Kravitz knows about our-_

And hesitates. Writes _relationship_ , deletes it. Writes _arrangement_ , deletes that too. Tries _history_ , but that sounds so cold and emotionless and withdrawn that he can't quite make himself send it. Finally leaves it at 'what Kravitz knows' and sends it without letting himself fuss any longer - Taako will know what he means.

The response is immediate. _Oh yeah. Sure. Okay. 1230? I'm not going in that stupid building I'll be out front._

As usual, talking to Taako raises more questions than it answers, but Brad is hardly about to start an argument via text. _1230 will be fine._ And then hesitates - this all seems so distant and awkward and it's less than 24 hours since he was in Taako's _bed_ , for pity's sake - before adding _It'll be nice to see you._ And then hastily shuts the Stone again.

\---

At 12:23 Brad steps out of his office. Charity takes one look at him and narrows her eyes. "Heading out somewhere?"

"Just lunch."

"Just lunch," she repeats, starting to smirk and hiding it very badly. "Does this just lunch have anything to do with your _perfectly ordinary_ weekend?"

"I might be back late," Brad says, ignoring her expression, and the rising tide of nervousness creeping into his head. "If anything urgent comes up you can call me."

"It'll have to be the world ending again to make me interrupt your date," Charity remarks, and he shoots her a look, but all he succeeds in doing is making her roll her eyes. "Don't pull that on me, you know it doesn't work." And then her expression softens. "I'm pleased, anyway."

"Thank you," Brad says, awkward. They don't do sincerity often, so he's honestly relieved when her expression sharpens into a smirk again.

"I want to meet him though," she says. Brad waves her off, and she laughs, but he does spend the walk from his office, down the lifts, through the foyer thinking about that - about how on _earth_ he's going to explain this to people. The more he thinks about it, the more daunting the logistics of it become, the sheer impracticality and the unorthodoxy of all of the choices he’s making. There's an insistent sort of dread starting up at the back of his mind which he can't seem to shake.

But then he's out the front of the Bureau and into the sun, and Taako is sitting on a bench within full view of the door, a pair of enormous sunglasses engulfing his face underneath a hat that also seems larger than usual, and the dread dissolves, for now at least. Brad _knows_ Taako, can't help a stab of fondness at the overblown - is it supposed to be a disguise? Brad thinks it probably is, although he would wager the ten foot radius of empty space around Taako has much more to do with the unimpressed vibe he's determinedly projecting than the effectiveness of his costume.

It feels - strange, a different flavour of it to Sunday. He tries not to overanalyse it as he makes his way over to Taako's bench, seats himself. "Taako."

"Bradson," Taako says, tapping away at something on his Stone. He holds out his hand. "Hand yours over for a sec."

"What will you give me for it?" Brad says, managing to keep his tone even.

Taako darts a sharp look at him."I just- Just gimme the Stone, Bradson," Taako says, a little impatient, so Brad does, shrugging off the urge to step into character and tell Taako off for his tone. _Not yet._

Taako fiddles with his Stone for a minute or two, then makes a satisfied noise. "There you go. Fantasy Whatsapp."

Brad takes the Stone. "I'm sorry?"

"Group chat," Taako tells him. "So you can, you know. Text us both. Or I can text you both. Whatever." He's nervous, Brad realises, and somehow that's comforting; that it isn't only Brad floundering slightly under the weight of history and expectation and shared hopes.

"Thank you," he says, and gets to his feet; decides against proffering a hand. "Shall we?"

"Sure, sure," Taako says breezily, slides off the bench. "Gotta admit I don't know shit about what's around here, so it's your call." Shrugs, and smirks a little as he adds, "Which suits you fine, I guess."

Brad starts off down the road. "We haven't talked about that again, yet," he says, bland. Taako peers at him over the top of his sunglasses, squinting a little. "I need to talk to you both, first, about how you want to conduct that part of whatever we end up… doing."

"Ugh!" Taako throws up his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? It's weird!"

"It is weird," Brad agrees. "But we still need to discuss it."

Taako glares at him, and Brad laughs again. "Here, look, let's wait until we're sitting down, at least. It's not far, there's a new place."

There's a small grumbly noise of acquiescence. They're quiet again for a moment as Taako matches his pace to Brad's, and it _is_ weird, walking side by side out in the fresh air, in public, but it's the good kind. The pleasant kind, that sits heavily in his veins, anticipatory.

"Krav said you collect stamps," Taako says, suddenly. "You didn't tell me."

"I thought you might be an ass about it," Brad admits. "It seemed like the sort of thing you'd find very funny."

"No _shit_ , Bradson." There's a smile in his voice, now, at least. "It's hilarious. You're a fuckin' _dork_."

"A man is allowed to have hobbies," Brad says, mildly. "It can't all be sex and saving the world."

Taako looks startled, for a second, and Brad is worried he's misjudged the joke, but then he laughs. Properly. Taako doesn't have a suave or attractive laugh; his face screws up and he sounds a little strangled but Brad finds himself smiling anyway.

"Yeah, well," Taako says, amusement still clear on his face. "You're talking to the elf who invented surfing, like that's a thing I did. Hobbies can still be cool, Bradson."

They've reached the cafe by now, and Brad doesn't miss the way Taako's shoulders round slightly, ears flattening, when he realises Brad is turning in off the street. But he still follows Brad into the shady courtyard, looks around with wary resignation.

Brad makes a split second decision. "Wait here," he says. "I'll get sandwiches. And - is water all right?"

"You're so boring," Taako says, but he still sounds relieved. "At least juice, my dude, come on."

When Brad returns with sandwiches and the requested juice, Taako is inspecting the planter boxes lining the courtyard, looking vaguely disapproving. "Ain't watering these," he sniffs, and then looks at Brad, and laughs his undignified cackle again.

"What?" Brad says, and Taako points at him.

"You," he says, "with those tiny paper bags-" and bends in half, giggling.

The sandwiches are in relatively normal-sized paper bags, but Brad supposes they are dwarfed somewhat in his hands. He can feel a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth against his will; before he gets it under control Taako's gaze snags on it and he smiles back, almost _shy._

Rather than come up with a way to respond to that, Brad gestures out towards the street. "Shall we go and sit in the park?"

"You wanna make daisychains and talk about the boys we like?" Taako smarms, and then blushes.

"Something like that," Brad agrees, and Taako snatches one of the sandwiches, mutters "Shut up," and makes a beeline out of the cafe towards the park down the road.

It's a warm enough day to sit on the ground, and Taako makes a beeline  for a spot beneath a large, shady pine tree, artfully arranges himself on the grass and gestures peremptorily at the juice in Brad's hand. He catches it one-handed when Brad tosses it to him, then watches intently over the mouth of the bottle as Brad seats himself.

"So, you wanted to talk about what Krav knows about-"

"First," Brad interrupts. Meets Taako's eyes. And the question sticks in his throat, because now he's making a deliberate choice to involve himself in the details of Taako's life - of which he knows so much, without asking, but still very little he's sought out himself.

Taako makes an impatient noise. "What?"

"I wanted to-" and breaks off again. There's no way he's going to be able to ask delicately. "Your back. What happened?"

The range of emotions that flickers over Taako's face is startling - both in intensity and because Brad recognises them. Surprise, anger, something like fear; embarrassment. Resignation.

"Ah," he says, and looks away; takes a drink of juice. By the time he puts it down his face has twisted back into a cynical smirk. "You noticed my _disfigurement_ , then."

"I noticed you were injured," Brad says, steady.

Taako sighs. "How much did you read of the Wonderland field reports?"

Nothing at all. Brad had delegated that particular job to Charity. "Very little."

Taako is picking absently at the label of the juice, peeling it off and smoothing it back onto the bottle. "I dunno, man. It was-" he laughs, but it's so different to his laughter from earlier that he may as well be a different person. Brittle, flat. "Well one, it felt like it went forever. Two, it was just… really fuckin' unpleasant." A long pause, and Brad is about to tell him they can leave it, they don't have to, when his back straightens and he goes on. "A big metal box fell on me. We all got hurt a bunch, had shit taken from us, and it was all - permanent." He smirks at Brad again, but it's a pale imitation. "Now you gotta be nice to me, Bradson."

Brad knows he's frowning, can't help it. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"We had to make _sacrifices_ , you know, weird-ass witchcraft necromancy stuff. Years, did you know that you can just like… take years off a person's life? Age them a decade in one go? That happened to Mags. And Lucretia, apparently, she went in there before us. Oh and they took a bunch of memories too, like Magnus forgot the dude who killed his wife and Merle forgot like…" he waves his hand. "Some mentor he had. Oh and he lost an eye. All pretty… fucked up stuff, actually!"

"And you?" Brad says, trying not to let the building horror show in his voice. "What did you-"

"Ugh," Taako says. Tries for flippant, doesn't quite make it. "Vitality, or something. The ah, _aforementioned_ box, in the middle of a stupid fight including a fuckin' _flying bear_. Oh and I'm less bendy now, bad news for you, Bradson."

"And you said it was- permanent?"

Taako sighs and scrubs a frustrated hand over his face. “Yeah, all of it. I dunno how to explain it. They just… made me less healthy, I guess. More fragile. I get tired more easily. If I cut myself I bleed for longer. If I get a fuckin’ cold it lays me out. It’s bullshit, actually, but Krav looked into it after everything got…” he gestures, “fixed, and it’s irreversible. Nothing I can do.”

Brad is seething, by this point. Furious that all of this happened without any opportunity for him to stop it. It must show on his face because Taako glances at him and laughs a little, awkwardly.

"You okay?" he says. "You look. Pissed."

Brad says, "It's hard to hear about someone you care about being hurt."

It feels uncomfortable to be so direct, but it's worth it; Taako's eyes go wide and he chokes on his juice. Clears his throat a few times, mutters "It's unfair to just say that shit."

Brad doesn't want to linger in this vulnerable space for too long - not here, not so public, not until both of them have had more practice at it. "I can go back to firing off orders, if you like," he says, and half-smiles. Taako looks taken aback, then relieved, and then the old familiar smirk creeps onto his face.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Taako tells him, smug. "How hard didja have to try not to push me around yesterday?"

"It took most of my considerable self control not to press you face down into your own pillows and slowly work you open on my fingers," Brad says, conversational, and then it's his turn to smirk when Taako's lips part a little and his eyes go soft and distant. "Picturing it, are you? Is that what you want?"

God but he's missed seeing Taako blush.

"Yeah," Taako says, determined, despite the swift pinking of his cheeks, the tips of his ears. "I want- I want all of it still, Brad, I missed- Krav and I kind of- but it wasn't the same-"

"I think," Brad rumbles, "I want to hear that from him." Holds Taako's gaze as his ears slowly dip and he squirms in his seat.

“I just don’t know how much I can," Taako says, breathing staccato. "I want to, but this…" the brittle laugh is back. "I bruise so easily now, I don't want it to be..." He trails off. "You're staring."

"I'm just thinking," Brad says - quiet, but deliberate, "about how this means I get to be creative."

They’re both staring at eachother now; Taako’s lips are slightly parted, and Brad can’t help how his focus drops from Taako’s eyes to the soft pink of his tongue. He knows what he must look like - sharp-eyed, intense. He tracks the rise and fall of Taako’s chest, the way he curls his hand on the grass to keep it still.

Brad leans back onto his hands to defuse some of the tension but it’s still there, singing along his nerves. “Force is only a tool. There are others.”

“I _like_ force,” Taako says, bratty.

“Then I suppose I’ll have all the enjoyment of feeling out your new limits.” Brad slowly peels his sandwich out of the wax paper it's wrapped in. “Possibly with an accomplice.”

“Ah,” Taako says. Takes another mouthful of juice. “So, uh. Krav doesn’t… I didn’t tell him about all…” he waves his hand. “That.”

“No, I didn’t think you had.”

“He - we talked about how you were... Intense, and-“

“Intense,” Brad repeats. Can’t help a slow, treacle-thick smile. “Is that how you described me?”

Taako juts out his chin. “You talking shit about my vocab, Bradson?”

“Just asking the question,” Brad says, mild. “Your boyfriend seems very perceptive, I do wonder how he interpreted that.”

“Well, like I said we kind of… we did some things,” Taako admits. “But I was the one who… I did the pushing.”

“Oh,” Brad breathes. “Oh, I see. Well, that’s a _lovely_ thought.” He straightens up again, watches Taako sway towards him, unthinking. “Were you very cruel, then? Or just playing?”

Taako carefully, deliberately composes himself before answering. “Thought you wanted to ask him that,” he says, and smirks. Brad watches him slowly extend his foot out to nudge Brad's thigh.

“You’re right,” Brad says, and uncaps his water. “What if I made him recite it to me while you suck his cock?”

“ _Jesus-“_

 _“_ It would help with the unnecessary interruptions.” He plays at thoughtful contemplation, drumming the fingers of his spare hand on his knee. “Although I could just gag you.” He looks directly at Taako and tries not to let the glee show on his face; Taako looks _wrecked_ , just from this, twitchy and desperate. “Depends how much there is to tell, I suppose.”

“God,” Taako says, voice thick with it. “God, I forgot what a fucking… asshole you are, this is just _teasing_ -“

“To be clear,” Brad interrupts, “the only reason I’m not dragging you into the most out of the way part of this park and pinning you up against a tree is because I haven’t spoken to Kravitz to establish the rules yet.” He nods at the road, visible from where they are, the steady trickle of people going about their lives. “And I’d prefer not to be arrested for public indecency.”

“Jesus. Can you ditch work, just come back to ours, we can-“

“No,” Brad says. “I’m not going to neglect my responsibilities. And we need to have a conversation, first. But if the two of you are free on Friday, we should-“

“We’ll be free,” Taako says, rapidly. “I’ll rearrange Krav’s work day myself if I have to.”

“Let’s talk during the week.” Brad lets himself grin. “Anticipation is another tool.”

Taako relaxes a little, at that. He’s still squirming, but he looks vaguely pleased. “Are you just gonna break out all the freaky strategies in your pervert toolkit?”

“I need to make up for lost time,” Brad agrees.

Taako makes a noise of assent, eyes narrowing. "You and me both. What _have_ you been doing with yourself, squirreled away in Crash Site Lunar?"

"Not much different," Brad admits. He gives Taako a crooked smile. "Repurposing Bureau infrastructure to serve Lucretia’s new directives."

Taako snorts, and says, "Effective use of available resources," in a clear mockery of Brad's tone. "Typical."

"If you have complaints about my methods, now's the time to air them."

"Yeah ok, here's my complaint: you do a fuckin stellar job of winding a guy up and then expect him to eat his sandwich and slink off home like a good boy," Taako says. "It's a real dick move."

"Yes," Brad agrees. "I also expect him to recite whatever he does about it to me, later."

He's expecting it to be another easy hit, but Taako's eyes narrow, instead. “Fine,” he says. “Want me to call you and murmur it down the line? Or I could write you a nice long text message and get Krav’s input?”

Brad hadn’t thought Taako would turn it around so fast and he’s caught off guard by how quickly the warmth in his belly flares. He smiles with his teeth, pulse quickening at the thought of Taako quietly reciting his - whatever he’s planning to do. “You do what feels best to you, pet.”

It just slips out; habit. Taako jolts, electrified, and Brad says hurriedly, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“No,” Taako says, abrupt. “No. It’s - fine.”

There’s another long, agonising pause as they both look at eachother, and finally Taako chuckles, leans back on his hands. “We gotta actually eat lunch, my dude, or we’re just gonna end up grinding on the ground like teenagers.”

“Not a great look,” Brad agrees, rueful. “All right. You’re right. Well what have you two been up to, then? Why did you pick Goldcliff?”

Brad is surprised by how easily they slip into small talk. It helps, he supposes, that he was so determined not to follow along with anything said about Taako in the tabloids; easier to come to this conversation without any pre-formed ideas. For Taako’s part, he seems to let nerves and tension spur him on to spin out the story of apartment-hunting with Kravitz into a dramatic comedy (“Listen, I love him, but that man has really fucked up ideas about bathroom sizes,”) which Brad chuckles the way through; and Taako pushes past Brad’s habit of saying nothing about his own life and gets him talking about his trip home, after S&S. Generalities, sure, but even when Brad finds himself complaining good-naturedly about doing the yardwork at his mom’s Taako follows along, interjects jokes, asks questions.

It’s remarkable in its normalcy, and once they’ve finished and standing up and brushing themselves off Brad's relaxed enough to skate his hand down Taako’s spine, rest it in the small of his back. He'd intended it as a fond gesture, but Taako looks up at him and something in his eyes, something hot and electric, plunges deep into the calm and all the arousal from earlier resurfaces, insistent.

“Don’t,” Brad murmurs, as they walk. “Save it up for your long message.”

Taako hums and drops his sunglasses back over his eyes. He presses back into Brad’s hand, but says nothing. They walk back to the Bureau like that, quiet; Brad keeps half an eye out on the street, expecting to run into somebody he knows, but luck or coincidence or the sheer unlikeliness of this event conspire to keep anybody from even properly looking at them, let alone recognising them.

On any other day, he would be revelling in the warmth of the sun and the pleasant afternoon, but right now all Brad can focus on is Taako’s back under his hand, the softness of his shirt, the brush of his arm against Brad’s side. As they draw closer to the Bureau Brad lets his hand slip down, strokes, and the soft hitch in Taako’s breathing is the sweetest noise he’s heard all day.

Taako seems to come to some sort of decision, then; moves faster, crossing the threshold of the Bureau and striding purposefully towards the bank of elevators, where he presses the call button and turns on the spot, crossing his arms.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Brad says, amused.

“Just being helpful.” Taako leans up against the elevator buttons, and Brad digs his hands into his pockets.

“Well,” he says. “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time, and - I'm glad to know how things stand. I’ll be in touch about dinner this week.”

Taako says nothing, just removes his sunglasses again, looks up at Brad with narrowed eyes.

“What is it?”

And then the elevator arrives, and Taako gestures him inside it. That look is back on his face; a wild, starved look.

“Taako-“

“Get in the damn moving box, Bradson.”

He does.

Taako follows him in.

The doors have barely closed and Brad has barely turned to look before Taako is on him, shoving him back into the wall. His hands come up to curl around the back of Brad’s neck, pull him insistently downwards, pressing up on his toes. Brad automatically slides his hands around Taako’s ass.

“You at least owe me a fuckin’ kiss,” Taako says, quiet.

“Do I,” Brad murmurs. His entire field of vision is taken up with Taako’s face; flushed, yearning. “It’s a good thing I’m several floors up, then.”

He’s not sure who actually bridges the gap, in the end. One moment he’s staring at Taako’s face and pressing his thumbs into Taako’s hips, the next he’s pulled Taako off the ground and up against his thigh, kissing open-mouthed and messy and desperate. Taako is whining but when Brad hikes him an inch closer and Taako bites down on his bottom lip he makes a noise of his own, a throaty shattered thing he barely recognises as himself.

And then the floor dings, and he drops Taako back onto his feet. They stare at eachother again, for a half a moment, before Taako smoothes back his hair and drops his sunglasses back onto his face.

"Kay," he says, affected nonchalance let down by how his chest is heaving, the glisten of spit on his bottom lip. "You'll be in touch about dinner. Got it. Later, then."

Brad reaches out to hold the doors, and before he can think too hard about it, strokes Taako's cheek with his other hand. "I'll talk to you soon."

Taako is not the only one adept at dramatic timing and gestures - Brad swoops past him out of the elevator and continues deliberately down the corridor until he hears the doors slide shut, and which point he allows himself a forceful exhalation and the beginnings of what he knows is a ridiculous grin which Charity will _certainly_ comment on.

It's fine. He's in a good mood. He'll manage it.

\---

Brad expects the rest of the week to drag, and it does. He knows he’s distracted at work, half-hearted, but whenever his Stone pings and he allows himself a brief moment  to check and answer it, he finds himself caught up in a conversation about something, and then ten minutes have gone by and he's completely lost the thread of the reports on contractor efficacy he'd been trying to read. Which he feels mildly guilty about, but not enough to start ignoring his Stone.

For all the smug promise, Taako’s confession doesn’t eventuate. Instead, Brad gets a message from Kravitz which just says _By all means, take him out to lunch more often_ , which makes him laugh out loud at his desk.

Rather than press for details he proposes they all meet for dinner. Taako and Kravitz take over the work of arguing about venue, which leaves Brad to consider how to approach the more important conversation he needs to have with them. The urge to try to plan it is strong, but he knows there's no point, so he focuses instead on the things he can control - his appearance, his presentation, his message.  
  
Which is why he ends up at the restaurant half an hour early. It’s softly-lit, richly-furnished, and when he's shown to a table towards the back of the room, Brad can't help but see the pattern of Taako avoiding _something_ , and quietly files it away to muse on later. Instead, he takes advantage of the extra time to compose himself. He knows the effect he has like this; jacket draped over the back of the chair, sleeves rolled. He orders a bottle of wine to have something to do with his hands, surveys the room over the rim of the glass.  
  
They’re late, of course - only five minutes, but given Kravitz’ particular advantages even that’s enough for Brad to internally chalk a mark next to their names. He’s gratified to see that Taako looks vaguely abashed, slightly dishevelled; Kravitz is as composed as he’s been every time Brad has seen him. They look _lovely_ , Brad admits to himself - Taako in an impractically scanty (given the cool weather)  grey skirt and a tawny cropped sweater, and Kravitz a flawlessly tailored navy suit and a shirt patterned in leaves and yellow flowers - the effect is such that he wonders briefly whether they deliberately coordinated outfits. He wouldn’t put it beyond Taako.  
  
Their reactions when they see him are deeply gratifying. Taako’s eyes go wide, and he starts to blurt some sort of apology; Kravitz’ gaze rakes over him once, going warm and appreciative. And then startled, when Brad cuts Taako’s apology off with a sharp gesture; incredulous, when Taako stops talking.  
  
Brad had wondered whether Taako would try to explain anything in advance, but it appears he did not; the thought of him sitting silently on this all week is absurdly arousing, for some reason. “Sit," Brad says.  
  
Taako does. Not quite clumsily, but quickly enough for Kravitz to suck his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I believe I’ve missed some potentially critical information,” Kravitz says, dryly.  
  
“Please, sit,” Brad says, ignoring Taako for the moment, pinning Kravitz with his regard. “There are some things I need to ask you.”  
  
“Tit for tat, I’d say,” Kravitz says, but he does sit.  
  
“What did Taako tell you about our previous arrangement?” Brad asks, without preamble, and glances at Taako when the elf squirms uncomfortably in the corner of his eye.  
  
“You know I didn’t-“  
  
“I want to hear it from Kravitz,” Brad says.  
  
Kravitz isn’t stupid, or naive. Brad knows this already, knows he’s relatively skilful at reading and empathising with people, and it's confirmed by the piercing, narrow-eyed glance which bounces between him and Taako. “He didn’t tell me anything out of the ordinary, which I gather was a lie by omission of some kind.”  
  
“I didn’t lie,” Taako protests.  
  
“Not a lie, but an omission,” Brad agrees. And then, “How much do you know about masochism?”  
  
“Oh my god,” Taako mutters. “Starting it off with a fuckin’ vocab lesson. Where’s the Fantasy Powerpoint, Bradson?”  
  
“Taako,” Brad says, tone pleasant. Taako presses his lips together and folds his arms.

"I'm familiar with the concept," Kravitz says slowly. He darts a look at Taako, and back to Brad, and then all at once an enormous grin splits his face in half, white teeth flashing. "Oh- _ho,_ " he chortles, and leans in; rests his fingers lightly on Brad's wrist, in what Brad suspects is a conscious echo of their first meeting. He doesn't look away from Brad's face, but he addresses Taako. "Darling. You left out some _highly_ pertinent details."

"I didn't-"

"Should I assume, then," Brad says, cutting off Taako's protest. It feels a little cruel, to be so dismissive - risky to trust that Taako will understand the intent without Brad clearly stating it - but he falls silent again, which seems like a good sign. "That this means you're agreeable?"

Kravitz raises his eyebrows in an expression Brad can only describe as coquettish, and he's immediately, fiercely relieved; the thought that Kravitz might not _want_ this had been a concern. And then relief gives way immediately to an even fiercer desire to _mark_ Kravitz, take something that doesn't belong to him and claim it anyway. He pushes back against it but it's there, hungry, as Kravitz draws a pattern on Brad's wrist with his fingernail and says, "Are you asking whether you're allowed to hurt me? Because I rather think the answer is yes, _please_."

"That's how he likes it," Taako interjects; the importance of this information is apparently greater than staying quiet. "Isn't it, babe."

"Yes," Kravitz says, simply. Reaches out a hand to Taako, who takes it. His eyes haven't moved from Brad's face. "Yes, it is."

"Well, then," Brad rumbles. Pours the other two glasses of wine. "There's a more detailed conversation to be had, once you've ordered."

Taako startles, and glances at the menu in front of him like he'd forgotten it was even there. Kravitz waves airily, drops his hand back onto Brad's wrist, says, "I'll have whatever he's having," to which Taako mutters, "Plagiarism," and Brad is...

Brad is immediately struck by the opportunities presenting themselves; being able to play them off against eachother, use them as tools to demolish eachother, is a dizzying possibility. He hasn't been able to be this creative since he was in college. He's still thinking about that as he idly orders his own dinner, barely pays attention to Taako's impatient rapidfire requests, refills his wineglass.

"Well, then," Brad says once the waitstaff have retreated, and slides a guitar pick onto the table. Two sets of eyes track the movement. "So we can speak openly, and avoid wasting spell slots."

Taako snorts. "I wondered how you were gonna manage that."

"So many oblique comments start to make sense," Kravitz murmurs.

Brad activates the charm; the comforting fuzzy weight of Silence descends over the table, and the background buzz of the restaurant slowly drains away.

"Now," Brad says, into the quiet, fixing his gaze on Kravitz again. "Before we start. How familiar are you with this, _exactly."_

Kravitz smiles wryly. "I've been around for some time, Brad." It's strange to hear his name in that voice, still, all rounded vowels. "I wouldn't say I've practised in a formal capacity, but I'm familiar with the general idea."

"That saves time," Brad says, dryly. "Well then, what I need from you - from you _both_ \- is a serious, thoughtful consideration of what you _don't_ want." He leans back in his chair. "I'd welcome thoughts on what you do want, too, of course. But - and Taako, I want you to tell me you understand this - this is an ongoing conversation. I want to know if things change. The _second_ they change."

Taako makes an impatient noise. "Gods, Bradson, I'm like two centuries old, you don't have to coddle me."

It's not impatience, exactly. Brad understands very well the impulse that might lead someone to ignore their better interests for the sake of skipping a difficult conversation; he doesn't like to linger on tedious details when there's something exciting to be had, either. But he has resolved not to let Taako - or Kravitz for that matter - make that mistake again. And as much as it would be easier to conduct this conversation in character, it's important that he has no doubt about their comfort.

"Taako," he says, and fixes him with the best 'don't try me' expression he can manage. "You will treat this seriously or it ends here."

"He will _definitely_ treat it seriously," Kravitz interjects, firmly. Shoots Taako a look. "Won't you, love?"

Taako sticks out his bottom lip, and Brad has to wonder whether the sulking is partly an act, an attempt to entice him into something like their old dynamic. He dearly wants to take the bait, if so, but.

"I'm just - it's the same," Taako says. Waves a hand, visibly embarrassed. "But you know, less. Like I told you."

"So," Brad says. "You have no objection to semi-public sex. You have no objection to being humiliated. You have no objection to my ejaculating inside you, or on you. You are happy for me to use toys. You want to be restrained, and to have your frailties used against you." Taako is bright pink, trembling, nodding jerkily.

"You want me to hit you," Brad adds. "Provided I moderate how much force I use."

Taako swears, thin and frayed. "Yes, god, I _told_ you, all of it, I still want-"

"All of it?" Brad interrupts, gently.

It's as though Taako has been hit with some sort of paralysing spell. He stops moving, all the nervy fidgeting from a moment ago evaporating.

"Yeah, okay," he says, finally. "I don't want… stay out of my head. Unless-“ and he hesitates, but finally says, “Yeah just… don’t.”

Brad can’t help but wonder what’s contained within that pause; how his feelings about being so neatly laid bare have changed. But that's a conversation for a different time. "Of course," Brad says, and holds Taako's gaze a second longer than truly necessary. Then back to Kravitz. “And you?”

Kravitz laughs. “Well the list you just gave Taako sounded perfectly delightful, if we’re being honest, and I’ll give anything a right decent go at least once.”

Brad can't quite tell whether Kravitz is entirely sincere or whether there's a shade of archness in his tone. He looks innocent enough that Brad can’t think of a way to respond without breaking character; without interrupting the slow build of this thing simmering between them.

And there’s the wider problem, here: that he’s effectively being given carte blanche by a stranger. Which is daunting, true, and makes him keenly aware of the responsibility he has to do this properly, but also. Also.

“All right, then,” he says, slowly, so his voice doesn’t give away the sudden pulse of desire, the overwhelming urge to know how Kravitz sounds when he’s being taken apart. “Well, let's see how things go."

Dinner comes close to destroying him. There's a marked difference between Taako, who looks about ready to demand their meal be given to them boxed up, and Kravitz, whose unabashedly cheerful appetite melts back into affable chitchat with an ease Brad can't help finding impressive. He does his best to appear equally unmoved, but he knows Taako can see through it - assumes that Kravitz can, as well. But neither of them raises it, and the realisation that Taako won't do anything to puncture the atmosphere Brad is building - not even to score a smug point - just adds to the thud of his pulse.

As the plates are being cleared they’re offered dessert, which Taako forcefully declines with “We’re good, we’ve got something at home,” and Brad briefly considers drawing it out but-

“Just the check, thanks,” he says, to which Taako breathes “Shit, finally,” and fidgets nervily while Brad’s card is taken and then returned. He all but jumps out of his seat and hauls Kravitz up after him, who goes, laughing. “C’mon, Bradson.”

“Very well,” Brad says, and follows them out of the restaurant.

\---

Kravitz is very pleased with how the evening has panned out so far. Stepping through nothingness to the middle of his apartment with Taako’s fidgety desperation on one arm and Brad’s brooding blankness on the other is _quite_ something, and he deposits them in the bedroom for the drama of it.

“Presumptuous,” Brad says, “but not inaccurate.”

"I don't like to frighten the cats," Kravitz says, cheerful. "Or give dear neighbour Susan anything to gossip about." He peels off his jacket, tosses it at the dresser; it falls short, so he shrugs and vanishes it.

Taako’s energy immediately dissipates; he’s watching Brad intently, expectant. Brad glances at him, but turns back to Kravitz.

“You couldn’t think of anything you didn’t want,” he says. “Is there anything you _do_ want?”

Taako’s sudden inhalation suggests to Kravitz that this is not a question Brad commonly asks, but for the life of him he can’t think of anything in particular now that he’s on the spot. “I like plenty of things,” he says, as smoothly as he can manage. “What do you want to do _to_ me, exactly?”

Brad smirks at him, a little, and Kravitz suddenly understands what Taako meant when he described Brad as apart, not cold. There is a separation in that look, something arms-length and deliberate, but there’s nothing cold about it at all. “There’s a long list, sweetheart.” The endearment is patronising, but Kravitz is _quite_ happy to be patronised. “But we should ease into it, I think, so for now I'll keep it simple. I want you to do as you’re told. I want to hurt you. And I want to fuck you.” He pauses, and adds, “But if I do anything you don’t like, I want you to tell me; and if you need to stop completely, we can do that, too.”

Taako pipes up with, “Say synergy and he'll stop,” and Brad looks briefly abashed. Kravitz can’t help a chuckle.

“That’s _ridiculous,”_ he tells them both. “You darling fools.”

“You can just use ‘red’,” Brad says, clipped. "At any time, for any reason. Tell me you understand."

Kravitz claps his hands together. "You've made yourself entirely clear, however unnecessarily."

"God, okay, see he gets it, _please_ Brad what do you want _me_ to do I'm Mcfuckin' _dying_ over here!" Taako says, petulant.

Kravitz sees the smallest shift in Brad’s expression, then; a flashed gap in the blank neutrality, something raw and covetous. “I want you to watch me fuck your boyfriend,” he says, measured profanity echoing sharply through the desire thick in the air. “I want you to keep your hands away from your cock. And I want you to tell me what you did when you got home on Monday.”

“J-jesus,” Taako stammers, blush deepening to crimson, hands already fisted by his sides. “You’re such an asshole-“

“If you’re a brat,” Brad continues, as though Taako hadn’t spoken, “you'll finish this evening on your own.”

Kravitz is spellbound by the slow disintegration of Taako, usually cocky and confident in the bedroom, into this: a creature made pliable by greed and desire. Kravitz would have expected Taako to argue, but he's already edging towards their bed as he says, “Shit, shit, okay - where, where do you want me to-

“Pull that,” Brad says, gesturing at the armchair in the corner of their bedroom which mostly houses their laundry, “across to there.” He points at the foot of the bed.

Then he returns his attention back to Kravitz, as though Taako is an afterthought right now. Which Kravitz thinks he should _probably_ feel guilty about, but being pinned by the weight of Brad's gaze has his dick starting to press into the fly of his trousers.

"Come here," Brad says, and Kravitz crosses the gap between them.

Brad tilts Kravitz’s head up. Cups his face in two large, firm hands. Kisses him, and Kravitz would like to pretend he has any ability to be suave about this but he lets Brad in almost immediately, sighs at the wet and filthy slide of their tongues.

Brad pulls back momentarily and says casually, without looking away from Kravitz' face, "And don't just dump those clothes on the floor. I want you to fold them, pet."

Kravitz is so preoccupied with the peremptory instruction that the sobriquet catches him off guard, and he nearly snorts. " _Pet_?" he manages, heartily amused - goes up on his tiptoes to glance over Brad's shoulder at Taako, who's facing away from them, obediently folding clothes, the tips of his ears glowing pink.

"I don't believe I said I wanted you to ask questions," Brad says.

It's an invitation to commit, and Kravitz is more than happy to accept it. "No, you didn't," he says, and drops back on to his feet. He ramps up his breathing, a little, and adds - a little daringly, he feels - a "Sir."

Brad smiles a little. "You're a quick study, sweetheart," he says; pats Kravitz' cheek. "Very good."

Kravitz might not be all that familiar with this type of game but the tone of that gesture is unmistakable, proprietary. It's intoxicating, and that feels weirdly illicit, to Kravitz, who is supposedly allegiant to an entirely different force. Not that She would care about this, except perhaps to find it amusing, but it still seems dangerous how some simple praise makes him feel keenly the need to touch and be touched.

There's a dragging sound as Taako moves the chair.

Brad sits on the edge of the bed, still ignoring Taako. "Take off your clothes for me, sweetheart." And then adds, "by hand."

Kravitz would have done it manually anyway in the circumstances, but the instruction makes it feel like obedience. His limbs are heavy, every movement deliberate as he unbuttons his shirt, slides the heel of his hand down his torso, lets the shirt slip to the floor.

"I'll make you fold that later," Brad comments. Leans back on his hands, legs wide enough for Kravitz to clearly make out the outline of his cock in his trousers. "And the rest."

He toes off his shoes and socks, tugs the belt free of the loops. Shucks his trousers and underwear slowly, for the joy of the smouldering gaze Brad rakes him with, and finally stands naked before him.

"You're very pleasant to look at," Brad tells him. "Which I'm sure you know. Take off my shoes."

Service comes easily to Kravitz. He sinks to his knees, tugs at Brad's laces. Sneaks a glance at Taako, who is sitting in the armchair with his hands balled into fists on his thighs, staring longingly at both of them.

As Kravitz sets one of his shoes aside,  Brad removes his own shirt and tosses it over to Taako. "You've been doing so well with the folding, pet."

Kravitz knows he's grinning but he can't help himself, not even when Brad says "Something amusing?"

"It _is_ rather funny to see him doing chores," Kravitz says, removing Brad's other shoe.

"We'll see," Brad says, and then, "stand up."

Kravitz tips his head back as Brad stands, too; watches hungrily as he takes off the rest of his clothes. His recollection of their previous encounter is mostly centered around Taako - Taako's urgency, Taako's enthusiasm, Taako's shuddering climax. He's very pleased to discover his impression of Brad naked aligns very well with his impression of Brad clothed - impressive everywhere.

There's no graceful way to climb naked on to the centre of a bed but Brad somehow manages to avoid looking foolish. And once he's enthroned himself - back to the wall, hand loosely curled around his cock, gazing at Kravitz with unadulterated desire, he looks entirely comfortable and unconcerned.

"Come here," Brad addresses Kravitz. "I want your pretty mouth on my cock."

Taako makes a noise at that, but Kravitz can't look away from Brad; he's turned on all the mortal impulses and the flood of spit in his mouth is distracting. He slinks onto the bed as best he can and leans in, lets Brad nudge against bottom lip, leave a smear along his cheek, the musky scent thick in his mouth.

Brad clicks his tongue, roughly fists a hand in Kravitz' hair, and pulls him forward. He goes; the stretch of his mouth around Brad's cock is really quite something, and he can't stop the slide of spit down his chin, but Brad strokes his cheek approvingly so apparently it's going well.

"Oh, Krav," Taako says, somewhere behind him. "You- fuck, I'm-"

"I gave you an instruction," Brad rumbles. Kravitz is gratified to hear he sounds a little less steady than before, at least.

"I'm- I did the chair thing, I-"

"No," Brad says. Nails rake the back of Kravitz' neck, sudden and pleasant, and he makes an appreciative noise. "Tell me what happened after you got home from lunch on Monday."

"Shit, Brad, I - I got home and we fucked, okay, it's not-"

"You can do better than that, pet."

Taako swears quietly. “Okay. okay. Uh. I, uh.” Kravitz knows even without looking what Taako is doing - clinging to the arms of the chair, gaze bouncing desperately over the two of them. He arches his back, just a little, presses his tongue against the underside of Brad's cock, and is gratified by sharp breaths in stereo. "We got home, and I, uh. I pushed Krav against the wall and… bit him, there's a spot on his neck and it- I mean, I'd normally work up to it but I was so-"

Kravitz moans a little, remembering. He'd been caught off guard by Taako's sudden violence and how he'd straddled Kravitz' leg as he bit a bruise into his neck, murmuring "Krav, baby," and "Lemme- I wanna do it right here, please." Kravitz had given in almost immediately because who wouldn't, with an armful of pleading Taako.

Well. Maybe not Brad. "So lacking in self-control?" Brad suggests, and pulls Kravitz backwards with a sharp tug. Pushes two fingers into his mouth. "Although I'll admit your boyfriend is certainly very pretty."

"Brad–"

"Then what?"

"I- we tore off all our clothes," Taako says, voice quivering with - embarrassment, excitement. "I just - I used your slick spell, three fingers, I didn't-"

"You didn't work up to it?"

"No," Taako sounds more and more wrecked. "No, you don't have to, he likes it if–"

"Is that true?" Brad murmurs. He slides his fingers out of Kravitz' mouth, but not before hooking them over the back of his teeth, tugging.

"Yes," Kravitz says; looks directly into Brad's eyes as he licks some of the spit off his bottom lip. "I like it like that."

Brad laughs a little, clearly pleased. "Turn around. Kneel up for me, legs wide." Kravitz moves, obedient, his heart thudding against his ribcage, and sees - Taako, both painfully aroused and desperately uncomfortable, skirt tented and stained with precum, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. Kravitz mouths _Okay_? and he nods jerkily.

The bed dips behind him and Brad's warmth comes closer; Kravitz forgets about Taako when Brad presses two fingers into his mouth again, pulls back on his hair and murmurs "Be a good boy and get my fingers wet, won't you?" His head is bent back far enough for his throat to feel stretched and tight and he sucks, hungrily, whimpering a little.

"Very nice," Brad tells him. Pulls his fingers out of Kravitz' mouth, hums something short and sharp, and then presses his fingers inside, relentless. Kravitz _wails_ , caught perfectly between wanting to push back onto Brad's fingers - so much thicker than Taako's, gods - and thrust forward uselessly into the air.

"Like that?" Brad says, managing to sound conversational despite the tightness in his voice.

"God," Taako says, thickly. Taako's chest is heaving.  his own hips twitching involuntarily. "Yeah, yeah, like– not as much but–"

"And then what?" Brad says. His fingers move slowly, steadily, curling and stretching, and Kravitz can't stop the stream of small noises he's making - it's been a long time since anyone was this careless with him. He's not sure if it's burn or the disregard which has him so frantic.

"We- I fucked him," Taako says. "On the floor in the living room, I got rug burn on my knees but I couldn't be bothered moving, I just had to be - I wanted to-"

"Who came first?"

"Taako," Kravitz interjects, with a breathless laugh. "I let him finish me off with his mouth."

"Lovely," Brad says. He sounds genuinely affected, for a moment, but then the honeyed mockery is back in his voice as he adds, "would you like to come on my cock, then?"

Taako moans " _Brad_ ," as Kravitz says "Yes, please," and writhes a little on Brad's fingers. "Please."

The fingers withdraw, are replaced by the blunt head of Brad's dick, nudging at him. Kravitz' breath comes fast and erratic; he seeks out Taako's face, locks on to it, sees the same intensity of feeling there as is currently seated in his chest.

"Brad," Taako says, throaty and broken. "Brad, please, you gotta - don't hold back, you have to - make it hard."

Brad noses in behind Kravitz' ear. "Do you want that, sweetheart? For me to be rough with you?" He thrusts lazily and his cock slips between the cheeks of Kravitz' ass, between his thighs. Close, but-

"Taako knows what I like," Kravitz says, breathless.

Brad tugs sharply on his hair, lets him cry out. "I asked you what you wanted."

"I want you to fuck me, sir," Kravitz says, in between short breaths. "As hard as you like."

Brad tugs his hair again, but it's playful this time, brief. "Good boy." And then he settles his hands on Kravitz' hips, digs in hard, and splits him open with one smooth thrust forward.

Kravitz cries out, hears Taako echo the sound. Brad says, "Hike it up, pet, I want to see you," and when Kravitz manages to open his eyes again Taako's skirt is rucked up around his hips, flushed and drooling cock on display. He's _never_ seen Taako like this, wound so tight he's visibly quivering, and it hits Kravitz like a blow, drags a hand immediately to his own cock. He won't stroke, he hasn't been told to, but even a loose curled grip feels near-overwhelming.

"So," Brad says. Withdraws, thrusts again, drags another cry out of Kravitz; he can't help it, he has no complaints about Taako at all but this is something else entirely. "That's what you did on Monday. Now I want to know what you wish had happened."

"What–"

"Tell me," another thrust, "what you thought about," and again, "when you jerked off later."

"You're such an _asshole,_ " Taako moans. "Fine, _fine!_ It was- you, taking me back to your office, pushing me out over the desk, pulling me back onto your dick-"

"Like this?" Brad says, and grips Kravitz' hips hard, the sudden bite of sensation setting his skin on fire. Hauls him backwards, the slap of skin echoing harsh in the room. It pushes the breath out of him, noisy, and the thought of Taako in his place makes Kravitz' blood pound hotly in his ears.

" _Yes_ ," Taako whines. "Yes, like that, however you _want_ , Brad, _please_ -"

Brad reaches up and curls a hand around Kravitz' throat, the other still holding his hips in place as he fucks Kravitz steady, ruthless, deep. "You see that," he murmurs into the side of Kravitz' neck, voice like sandpaper. Kravitz feels his mouth fall open, unbidden. "You see him watching you? Look how much he wants to be in your place." And then bites, almost exactly the right place, but certainly hard enough; the sudden sharp ache of it rushes straight to Kravitz’s cock and he tightens his hand and comes, shuddering, with a thin, bitten-off sound.

And then there's a large hand curled over the top of Kravitz' hand, and Brad thumbs at the head of his cock while he's still desperately sensitive and he's pushing instinctively backwards away from the sensation and into Brad's hips, whimpering.

"Very nice," Brad tells him, and there's a final spike of pleasure at the praise as Brad slowly withdraws. "What do you think, Taako's turn?" Taako echoes Kravitz' whimper. "Do you think you’ve earned it, pet?"

"Do it anyway," Kravitz says, his voice thick even to his own ears. "I want to see him."

There's movement behind him as Brad resettles himself - on his back, one arm up under his head. It's so deliberate it should be laughable, but Kravitz glances back at Taako - glassy-eyed, hungry - and can't quite see anything to laugh about.

"Take off your clothes and come here," Brad says, and Taako's sweater stretches comically as he tears it over his head in his scrambling haste. Kravitz glances between them, unsure, but Brad gestures him closer so he crawls forward himself, lies on his side to watch. Taako crawls, too, until Brad gestures impatiently and he rears up on his knees, spreads them either side of Brad's hips.

"Are you- going to-"

"No," Brad says crisply. "You are." And he hums slick, not onto his hand, but on Taako's.

Taako breathes out, shakily, but he's already reaching behind himself, clumsy with eagerness. Kravitz feels his blood stir again at that, the unabashed ardour of it.

"Okay, okay, I'm-"

"Slower," Brad says, harsh.

Taako makes an edged noise of frustration, but the movement of his hand slows. Kravitz reaches up to touch his thigh; smiles, when Taako shudders.

"All right, then." The words bely the lust on Brad's face. "Go on."

There's an ease in Taako's movements - familiarity - as he settles himself into place and sinks down onto Brad's cock. Moans, head back, eyes closed, and Kravitz finds himself both appreciating the sight and the sweet ache Brad left him with. "Shit," Taako breathes, rocks in place. " _Fuck_ , I missed this- sorry, babe, but I-"

"Not at all," Kravitz murmurs, watching Brad's length - his girth, more to the point - disappear, reappear. "It's quite something."

Taako whines, agreeing, as he moves. Slow, deliberate, while his legs tremble and his hands remain obediently fisted by his sides. Something Kravitz has noticed and apparently so has Brad, if his "That's good, you've been so good for me, pet," is anything to go by. Taako leans forward, braces himself over Brad's chest to push back with force.

Being this close to it is almost overwhelming; the sound of skin on skin, Taako's increasingly broken keening, echoed by the strain in Brad's breathing. The glistening smear of precum Taako has left on Brad's abdomen. Kravitz levers himself up on his elbow. "May I-"

"Yes," Brad grates out. Kravitz doesn't ask twice; leans forward, laps at the smear, tongues messily at Taako's cock, sucks the head into his mouth.

Taako comes immediately, gasping; there's a choked sound from behind him and then Brad's hand is in Kravitz' hair, pulling him backwards, as Taako leaves a short stripe of come on his cheek. Brad's other hand goes to Taako's hip and holds him in place. His fingers are tight enough to bruise as he pulls down hard, thrusts three times, short and sharp. Groans out something that sounds like Taako's name.

Taako himself is hunched over, his hair hiding his face, breathing a touch erratic. Kravitz has seen him like this before, knows it will pass, but he strokes Taako's leg again, anyway.

Brad has the same idea. "Come here," he says; hauls Kravitz up beside him. Taako kneels up, wincing, and Kravitz feels his cock stir again at the sight of Brad's come already sliding down Taako's thigh, thick and visibly slippery. He wants to reach over and press his fingers inside, but settles for murmuring "Next time I want to be the one who gets filled up."

Kravitz is expecting Taako to blush, and he does. But when Kravitz cranes his neck back to look up at Brad's face and sees the slightest hint of awkwardness he knows he's on to something, and can't help a chuckle.

"I can beg if you'd like," he says, pitching his voice low and throaty. " _Please, Brad, I want to feel you come inside me,_ " and laughs again at Brad's face; at the shocked arousal softening his eyes.

"We can talk about that," Brad says, recovering admirably, as he nudges Taako up and along his other side. It's _delightful_ , this particular cuddling configuration, and Kravitz has no complaints. Not to mention his own short refractory period has him very much enjoying the sensation of Brad's thigh against his dick.

"Well," he says, and drums his fingers on Brad's chest. "That was quite something, and if it's what you'd call _simple_ I'm positively gagging to try complicated."

Brad makes a noise which sounds like a laugh being turned into a cough. "I'm glad you feel that way."

"Told you," Taako murmurs. "Krav's kinky as hell."

"I'd have said I've sophisticated passions."

Brad looks to be battling with his own amusement, trying to stay neutral. "That's as may be, but I need to know whether you're well."

The urge to be dismissive is there but Kravitz senses this is important. He takes a moment to consider, but can't find anything objectionable in his current state or in anything that's happened to him.

"Oh, yes." There's no clever way of saying _I'm excited to see how this all pans out and you're very very charming._

Brad strokes Taako's back; the elf's face a little faraway, glazed, but pleased. "And you?"

Taako hums, and says nothing for a moment. Brad starts to shift, his concern so immediate and obvious that Kravitz is about to do the work of reassuring him when Taako shakes himself a little.

"Mm. Yeah, that was, uh. Holy hell." He slides a hand onto Brad's abdomen, through his own mess. "I should fix that. And, yeah. Good."

"If there was anything you'd prefer not to- both of you-"

Taako looks briefly mortified, but Kravitz chuckles, genuinely amused. "Quite frankly I'm now just _filled_ with anticipation. And I'd like to try riding, actually. Oh, do you spank?"

"Oh my god, Krav," Taako groans, and buries his face in Brad's chest. "You're the fuckin' worst."

"He asked!"

"All right," Brad says, strokes both of them in tandem. "All right. Think about it. Let's talk separately, perhaps, it might be easier like that. And we should - I should try to organise a time to- what are your schedules like?"

Kravitz chuckles. "Schedules. You darling man, as if anything so mundane would work in a household this chaotic."

Brad looks startled, and then a small crease appears on his forehead. "Surely you have some sort of… roster-"

Kravitz waves a hand. "We just fit in around eachother from day to day."

"Been working so far," Taako agrees.

Brad is obviously unhappy with that response, but he says nothing, and Kravitz figures it's a problem for another time. Taako looks subdued, too, but- well. He's like that occasionally, and Kravitz knows how to wait it out.

"All right," Brad says. "I'll look into my schedule and arrange something. But we…" he trails off, and sighs. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you've got a bath."

"Yep," Taako confirms. "Got a gigantic shower though, two showerheads, should fit us all."

"Effective use of available resources," Brad says dryly, and Taako snorts; there's a joke there that Kravitz can only feel around the edges of, just now, but he's not particularly concerned. He has plenty of time to learn the ins and outs of Brad and Taako and their odd shared history.

"All right," Brad says. "A shower, and I suppose I-" he frowns. "I didn't think to arrange an overnight b- oh, but," hurriedly, "I don't need to stay if you'd-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kravitz says, at the same time as Taako's "Of course you're _staying_ , Bradson, shit."

"I don't have pyjamas," Brad says weakly.

"I'm too exhausted to take you home, you'll have to sleep naked. How terrible," Kravitz deadpans. He props himself up on his elbow, on Brad's chest. "In all seriousness, we can flit over there to get some things, but only on the understanding that we'll both be returning. That's my condition."

Brad's lips turn up at the corner. "Already, demands," he says. "All right."

"Good," Taako says. "Been a while since you had breakfast that wasn't cereal, I bet."

"My other condition," Kravitz says, and drops back down to lie flat with a soft _thud_ , "is that we remain here for at _least_ twenty minutes."  

Brad huffs another laugh. "Of course," he says. "No need to go anywhere just yet."

**Author's Note:**

> SO UH
> 
> Sorry for the long delay on this one, I wasn't quite expecting it to be... this long...
> 
> Thank you to Goose for the outfit advice and WG for correcting my deeply handwaved approach to canon. And both for the beta! Goose in particular did a ton of work on this one and it's much better thanks to her advice and help.
> 
> On the subject of canon: none of us are fond of "Taako sacrifices his looks" so hey, canon divergence. To be honest my position has always been "Taako is striking in a weird sort of way" and I'm sticking to it.
> 
> Title is from Ball Park Music's ["The Perfect Life Does Not Exist"](https://youtu.be/3fGyjSVGw4E), and don't get me started on how much the album RULES


End file.
